


Souls are such fickle things

by SunflowerAro



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerAro/pseuds/SunflowerAro
Summary: Wind had always imagined souls to be immovable, only leaving the body once one had passed away. Boy, was he wrong.
Comments: 27
Kudos: 146





	Souls are such fickle things

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the discord and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Enjoy!

Wind had never imagined the soul to be such a fickle thing. He had always envisioned some sort of misty apparition that glimmered with everything that was him, a universe within his chest that glowed when he was happy, and darkened on his worst days. A soul was meant to be stable, fixed within him until the day he died, when the threads tying him down would release him so that his own little universe could join those before him in the stars.

He had never thought a soul could be cast out, shoved aside by dark magic to make room for something else, someone much more sinister than he could ever be. The threads holding him there? That had been accurate. The strings had kept his soul tied to his body despite not being inside it. Not even they could remain constant, his grip on the mortal world snapping away thread by thread with every passing day.

Dark didn’t care much for his roaming thoughts. Wind had been singled out, swept away from his comrades by pushy blins and right into Dark’s arms, blinding pain in his chest turning his vision black as his soul was _torn_ from his body. He hadn’t spent a second in his own body since. 

No one noticed. 

Dark had been watching them from the side-lines—or, so he had told Wind, late at night while the others slept—and, consequently, had been able to match Wind’s personality almost perfectly. He had carved his own piece, tearing Wind out of the puzzle and slotting himself in his place almost seamlessly. 

Drifting alongside what he had once called his body, unable to alert the others to the danger, unable to even speak to them as they grew closer without him, left a numb ache in his chest, a pit expanding with every second he remained alone despite sitting beside them. Every day, his only company was the taunts and jeers from Dark, any words from his friends aimed his way only echoing against the numb pit, because they weren’t for _him_. They were for the person Dark had created, had changed to suit his own needs and blend in further. Wind could never be as pathetic as Dark made him out to be. 

He couldn’t deny how _badly_ he wished that he was the one in Warriors’ arms, being comforted when homesickness became too much—because Dark hadn’t been wrong about that. The longing tugged at his weak soul as he watched them, tears sparkling on his cheeks as Dark shot him a wink from where he was bundled up in Warriors’ scarf.

He wished Warriors could hold him before his soul faded away completely, its time away from his body wearing it down until he began to fade. A glimpse at his transparent hands only filled him with panic, leaving him grateful he no longer needed to breathe, certain he would be unable to.

Wind could still recall the soothing weight of Wolfie after a nightmare, when the wolf would rest his head over his chest and whine until Wind held onto him. He could almost _feel_ it when Dark did the same, as undeserving as he was of one of Wind’s favourite things. It only hurt more when Dark smirked at him, as though to tease him. He would pull the wolf’s face closer and bury his tear-stained face into the fur as Wind longed to do. Fake tears went a long way with Dark.

He couldn’t help in battles, not while incorporeal. No one could hear nor see him like this, not in this miserable state of being barely alive, latched on to the mortal world by a few thinning threads. He could only follow behind Dark as he led them into another trap, an ambush flooding into the field. 

Wind cringed as Wild took a brutal hit from a moblin, it’s club crashing into his temple and sending him flying. Dark raced over under the pretence of aiding Wild, stumbling and knocking another moblin towards the felled hero. 

Wind couldn’t find it in him to yell at Dark anymore, not when he would only be ignored, disregarded like rotten food. He found himself drifting closer to Wild, as close as the threads would allow him, hoping against all odds to aid him in some way, _any_ way, before he met another death. Mipha could bring him back, but from the few glimpses Wind had had from across the battlefield, the experience seemed harrowing. It left Wild on edge, jittery during the day and sleepless at night. 

Wind inhaled sharply as Wild stumbled to his feet, eyes unfocused from the hit to his head, a thin trail of blood trickling down from his hair and staining his tunic the colour of ripe plums. 

Wild swung blindly, his attempt easily dodged by the two moblins. Another swing from the moblin had Wild on his stomach, his leg bent in a way that left Wind nauseated. He moved closer in a vain attempt to protect his friend from a fatal swipe from the second moblin, spreading his arms desperately. Its spear slipped through him and Wild alike. 

A choked sound from behind him as Wild sputtered, blood flecks flying from his mouth as he coughed. Trails of red lined his mouth, and Wind was reminded for a moment of the first time Aryll tried to use makeup, the lipstick smudging across her face despite her efforts. His heart ached for her, especially when he would be gone soon. He hoped she never found out about his fate.

The final breath left Wild’s mouth and his chest stilled, peace returning to his face as his body gave in to the pain. Wind stepped back, his chest hollow as he gazed down at one of the people he had come to think of as a brother. A part of him remained intrigued despite the numbness spreading through his faded limbs; he had never seen a resurrection up close before. 

Wild’s soul departed his body, rising painfully slowly. His eyes remained shut, as though his soul still desired to be at rest for a little longer before it was dragged back once more. Blue flames squeezed out from Wild’s despondent body, twins twirling through the air around the soul. 

Dark moved closer to the two of them, making a show of protecting Wild’s body as Mipha worked her magic. Wind paid him no attention, even if his attempt to gain the team’s trust left anger curdling in his chest.

The two flames spun faster, now. Wind found himself unable to follow even one of them, his attempt leaving him dizzy and cross-eyed. They halted, moving together and growing, forming the image of a zora girl, her hands clasped together and eyes shimmering. 

Wild’s eyes snapped open as she floated over him, a gentle smile upon her lips. His eyes softened and he watched her fondly, reaching out to grasp lightly at her arm. Wind watched as she tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, pressing a kiss to his forehead before moving back as her magic spread across Wild’s soul. Blue tendrils wrapped around him, holding him tightly as they prepared to pull him back to the living world. 

Wild’s eyes followed her, before they landed on Wind. Wind inhaled sharply when Wild jolted in alarm, eyes flitting over to where Dark still fought. His mouth opened and closed, grasping at words as he held Wind’s eye, comprehension dawning upon him.

“Wind?”


End file.
